The Escape
by kumar LaVoixDuSud
Summary: What if Eragon had delayed one day to face the King? What if Murtagh had the time to free Nasuada?
1. The Escape

**Disclaimer :** I do not own any hero of the Inheritance cycle.

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**A/N :** As they have not an account, thus I cannot PM them and thank them properly, this story is dedicated to **Nell, ano, lalal, Kaali** and **kitteh875** for their reviews to my stories.

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**A/N :** This little story is the outcome of a bet. Someone scoffed at my slowness to write in English; so I decided to prove myself by writing a story within a single night. The idea of the story and the writing took place in the night hours. I haven't slept at all, but I've made it. I'm so tired, but content and eager to post this story. All I have to ask you is to excuse the many mistakes in English you will find. I promise that I will return to this story, and correct them all.

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**The Escape.**

The hooded man was walking decidedly in the dark corridors of the castle with a brisk pace. He descended the stairs making towards the Hall of the Soothsayer, holding tightly under his armpit a small, hidden pack. His cape, loosely wrapped around his body, prevented any observer from seeing it. As he was passing by, gathering over him the suspicious glances of the many, fully armed guards, he pulled lower the hood of his mantle, shading his fiery eyes.

There were six of them, watching outside the doors of the Hall. Seeing the man approaching, they crossed their spears stopping his rush, but as he lifted a little his hood revealing his face, they withdrew their weapons and stepped aside.

'Forgive us, Lord Rider. We have not recognized you in the first place.' The captain of the squad opened the doors for him and closed them soon after he entered, glaring against two soldiers, who dared to exchange meaningful glances.

The man descended the few stairs of the entrance, approaching the cold stone slab, on which the Lady of the Varden was tightly fastened with her shackles. He had many days to visit her as he was obliged by the King to be otherwise preoccupied, but his thought was all the time here, with her.

_Nasuada!_

He created a crimson werelight above the slab, and watched the reflections on her tired, beautiful face. The young woman had fallen into a deep sleep overwhelmed by her previous encounter with the illusions the King had created into her mind. For the last few days, it was _this_ beautiful mind of hers he was permitted to touch with his own, trying to help her keep her sanity, and it was _this_ permission too that steeled his resolve to do what he intended.

As always he chanted a spell, preventing the guards from listening. He would like to stand there and watch her asleep, but there was not enough time. He touched her shoulder lightly, waking her. Nasuada opened her eyes gasping, but once she saw it was he who leaned over her, she relaxed. She saw his eyes looking at her with concern and, in spite of her condition, she tried to smile.

'Murtagh!' she whispered his name. There had been many days since his last visit.

He unfastened her shackles, and doing so, he couldn't help, but remember … The same Hall … the same shackles fastened on his own wrists … him, lying helpless on the very same slab …

_No!_ Thorn's distant voice, echoed inside his mind. _Do not do this to yourself! Do not do this to us. _The wild cry of protest abated a little. _Just do what you have to do, my crazy Rider._

The Dragon withdrew slightly from his mind and he blinked to drive out the memory. He knew that Thorm would be with him all the time, helping, supporting.

He withdrew for a moment giving her some privacy, and Nasuada sat up on the cold stone, rubbing her wrists to restore circulation. But once she stood, he grabbed decisively the neck of her shift and pulled it to the side, tearing the fabric. As she tried to cover herself protesting, he swallowed and looked her straight in the eye.

'I have to heal you, now!'

'But, what if …'

He raised his hand to cut her short. _We are leaving_, he mouthed, dropping the tightly wrapped package onto the slab.

Nasuada understood and felt a flicker of hope in her heart; then she nodded and bowed her head. He placed his hands upon various parts of her body, chanting the healing words in the ancient language. His touch was gentle, even hesitant, and her expression of relief was the evidence he needed to understand how much pain she had been suffering.

Once he had finished, he indicated the small pack.

'Here! You will find all that you need,' he said and turned his back to her, crossing his hands on his chest. 'But, try to hurry. There is no much time.'

Nasuada unfolded the pack finding inside a tunic, a pair of trousers and lightweight boots, and she hurriedly got dressed.

'You can turn now.'

There was some food stuff inside the pack and she looked at him puzzled.

'I will need this' he whispered laconically. His voice inspired confidence as he stood tall and rigid in front of her.

'Are you ready?' he asked.

His eyes glittered in the dim werelight. He looked different than the last time they had met. Something in his posture reminded Nasuada of the young man, she had once met in his cell, in Farthen Dûr.

_He is free! How …_

She looked at the doors of the room. Murtagh understood the meaning of her stare.

'Not this way.'

'But …'

'_He_ somehow, got possession of the knowledge that I visited you at nights; not by scying me, I should have known.' He pierced her with fiery eyes. 'Because of this, he made me swear more oaths. That I will never help you out of these doors.'

Nasuada trembled. The thought that he had freed himself was a mistake. But this strange feeling …

'Then, how?' she asked with slow, hoarse voice.

His eyes shone; a half, wild smile twisted his face, more like a grimace than a smile.

'Do you remember what did _he_ tell you about this chamber the first time he was here?' he asked her.

Nasuada nodded. The Hall of the Soothsayer was built by the ancient Elves atop the crevice, buried deep within an escarpment, where the vapors, rising out of the crack in the stone increased the chances that those who slept near it might catch a glimpse of future events.

'Exactly!' Murtagh's eyes shone. 'A fissure on the crack of the stone, leading to the escarpment below. The Elves used the escarpment as defense against the attacks of the Dragons.' He grimaced again his strange, wild smile. 'I am not going to help you out of these doors!'

Astounded Nasuada opened her mouth. A loophole! He had discovered once again a loophole, and he was proud about himself. That's why the previous posture. Nasuada unintentionally shivered. What an ally this man could be if …

'This ground cut brings around the ancient fortification of the city, and leads over the plains, hereabout.'

Murtagh raised his head proudly. In her eyes he seemed to be taller now, even stronger.

'During all the previous days, I've spent _every_ free moment studying about it. If we are lucky to reach there, it might bring us in front of the rampart of the walls of Urû'baen.' He bared his teeth that glittered with shines of red. So did his eyes. 'The oaths cannot stop me!'

He held Nasuada's arm pulling her behind him, and lifted his palm with the _gedwëy_ _ignasia_. Soon after, he began to chant in the ancient language, and one ray of red light fell on the stone slab. Slowly but steadily the ray begun to tear it in the middle, to crush it, reduce it, melt it to sand, and finally only a dim outline indicated that it ever existed. A deep, dark fissure could be seen on the stone floor, so narrow that the hand of a man could not enter, let alone his body. Nasuada gasped and frowned.

'And now?'

Murtagh breathed heavily. He stretched his senses towards the thick, black rock beneath the crack, and begun searching for flaws. Every time he found one, he pushed on it, elongating and widening it. In the beginning there was no visible progress, but he persevered. With a more decisive tone he began to chant the same words once again.

'_Thrysta deloi._'

He was rewarded by a resounding crack that could be heard clearly on the surface. There was a persistent screech, and then the ground slid inward leaving a gaping hole enough for a human body to enter.

Nasuada turned upset towards the doors.

'This must have been heard.'

'No, I've casted a spell, so that no sound from this room will be heard outside.' Thick beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and he unsheathed Zar'roc. He fixed his eyes on hers.

'Are you ready to risk?'

She stared at the dark, deep, bottomless hole of the ground. Then, she raised her head watching the lines on his face deepen.

'Murtagh, since I remember myself, I was always ready to risk.'

His posture relaxed a bit.

'Good.' He released a breath, looking her straight in the eye. 'Perhaps there is no way out.' A deep concern shaded his eyes. 'Maybe … no way back.'

Nasuada straighten her body.

'I am ready!'

He casted a werelight and dropped it inside the immeasurable depths, leaving it suspended in the air. He stuck his sword into the ground to use it as an anchor for support and started making for the chasm, when Nasuada grasped his arm.

'You do this for me …'

His eyes filled with emotion.

'I have promised. I fulfill my promise' and he entered.

Nasuada watched his head disappear for a moment, only his hand left outside holding the hilt of Zar'roc. The strange feeling that he was free returned. He was here, he had healed her, he was risking everything for her. For a moment Nasuada remembered again the young man she had met in Farthen Dûr, the one who demanded to be judged by his own deeds and not his father's.

_Could it be?_

He appeared once again on the surface.

'Come!'

He helped her inside and supported her until she found a solid rock to stand. He had created with his magic small step-like projections on the narrow walls of the crack. Nasuada looked underneath her feet, as long as the werelight permitted, and saw the chasm gaping beneath them. She gripped tightly a projection of the rock. She felt the stone wet and slippery under her fingers.

_Gokukara, help me!_

The air was dank and muggy and smelled of sulphur. But Nasuada felt grateful that still it was breathable.

'We have to descend the walls of the crack.' Murtagh said, holding tightly her waist with one hand and the hilt of Zar'roc with the other.

'Can't we use your magic?' She watched him unfasten the sword from the surface and dig with it in a softer spot of the gap, one with a small amount of dirt.

'We could, but I want to preserve my strength, as I don't know what lies ahead. We will use it if there is no other way.' Murtagh began to descent, carefully reaching for the next magic-created projection. His grip on Nasuada's waist tightened.

'What about your Eldunarí?' She minded to step on the previous spots he had used.

'I left all of them in Thorn's saddlebags. _He_ knows at any moment where they are. If I would take them with me, _he_ would have known my plans. I have to relay on my own powers and Thorn's help. If I use any Eldunarí's power, he will find out what I'm doing.'

Nasuada blinked. He never used the King's name or title, but he was referring to him as _'he'_.

'Where is Thorn now?'

'Flying over the city.'

Murtagh stopped for a while, examining the rock in front of him, discovering softer materials of the ground.

'_Moi stenr!_'

He chanted again a few more phrases in the ancient language, and the rock and dirt under their feet seemed to melt into a narrow path, leading downwards. The descending became easier now. The werelight followed their movement, casting sparkles on Zar'roc's blade and ruby, as the Rider still used the sword like an anchor, to retain a better hold on the rock.

The walls of the crevice became wider and the rock less slippery. Nasuada grabbed tightly some roots she sensed under her fingers and dared to look upwards. Αpart from the crimson ball of light, darkness surrounded them. She could not tell how deeper they had gone and the awe struck her, causing her missing her step. Some dirt and stones fell down the bottomless depths. She felt the Rider's firm hand round her waist and she relaxed a bit. The tension made her arms and legs hurt.

They went on this way for a long while, when Murtagh stopped abruptly. Another crevice of the escarpment, a bigger one this time, cut their way. He examined the rock around him to find something to grasp, but the gap was too wide for them to jump to the other side.

_Thorn, I have to use again the magic. I have to relay on your strength_ _this time. I feel so tired._

_Take my strength, Rider, and use as much as you need,_ the Dragon answered. _But, be careful!_

He let his senses spread, be joined with these of the partner-of-his-mind-and-soul, and sank into the deep, subconscious magic of the Dragon, absorbing as much power as he needed. He thought carefully about the best way for them to cross the chasm, and finally, he decided to create a bridge above the gap. The rock in front of their feet, as from the opposite side, began to be lifted and lengthened, reaching the one part towards the other. When he finished, he secured Nasuada beside him and leaned all his weight on Zar'roc panting.

'Are you well, Rider?'

He nodded and touched his forehead on the ruby of the sword, absorbing some of the energy that was stored within it.

'We have to cross the passage, one of us at a time' he said, breathing hard. 'I will go first, to check if the bridge can stand the weight.'

He sheathed Zar'roc being unable to use it on the narrow rock, and stepped carefully on the bridge, stretching his hands to gain his balance, a half step at a time. The rock was slippery under his boots, like polished steel. He didn't know if Nasuada could make it and he wouldn't like to risk leaving her alone to cross the passage. But he couldn't afford more magic, unless it was absolutely necessary. He reached the other side and released his breath, he had not realised he was holding. He turned to face Nasuada and knelt on his left knee to have a better balance, stretching his hands towards her.

'Come! And be careful. Whatever might happen I'll catch you.'

Nasuada started towards the bridge, feeling the soles of her soft boots slipping on the hard rock. She tried to imitate the Rider's previous movement, one half step at a time, but she had not even reached in the middle, when she slipped. She tried hard to maintain her balance, but she found it impossible. With a wild, frightened cry, Nasuada fell into the void.

At the same instant, red tendrils of magic grabbed her hands and waist, holding her in mid air while Murtagh rushed once again to the bridge. Using his powers he lifted her to his level and snatched her waist. He secured her in his arms holding her tightly, both astride in the middle of the bridge facing each other, while she leaned her head on his shoulder, panting and gasping and grasping at the back of his tunic.

'I thought I …'

The Rider took a deep breath.

'I told you, whatever might happen I will catch you.'

She closed her eyes tightly, regaining her breath and demeanor. She released his tunic and straightened her head proudly. The Leader of the Varden should not be seen so scared and helpless. But she looked at him straight in the eye.

'Thank you, Murtagh. You have just saved my life.'

Unintentionally, they delayed a few more moments looking at each other, his gaze filled with concern and care. The strange feeling of freedom returned into Nasuada's mind, and she would have asked him, if not the scary crack they both heard, coming from the middle of the bridge, on which – very foolishly – both of therm were still be seated. Murtagh practically jumped on his feet, lifting her with him holding tightly her waist. He felt the rock tremble under his boots. He rushed to the other side and before he could even step on the narrow path, with a loud noise, magnified by the walls of the crack, the bridge collapsed.

Once again it was the magic that saved them. This time Thorn united his power along with his Rider's, giving him strength to lift both himself and Nasuada, to regain and secure their footing on the narrow, rocky path and to avoid the danger of falling rocks and loose dirt, which followed the collapse.

Murtagh was tired. Beady drops of sweat crowned his forehead, and his breath came out with sharp gasps.

'I have to eat something.'

Carefully, not to move too fast, Nasuada took hold of the pack with the foodstuff hung from her shoulder, and handed him a piece of bread. He chewed and swallowed greedily, feeling the energy flowing inside his body, refilling him with power. He ate another piece of bread and a piece of meat, before he was ready to go on.

They descended much more meters and the path before them became easier and wider. The Rider stood and stretched his senses within the rock. He did not like to go beyond the ground level, without knowing of it. The ground level of the escarpment the ancient Elves had used was someplace near. The small fissure in the rock he discovered, filled his heart with the hope that there was indeed an exit. From the other side of the rock he felt a large empty space. The gradual process of their descending was, hopefully, coming to an end.

He chanted the magical words once again, with the purpose to widen the crevice as much as it was needed for them to pass to the other side. He had to proceed very carefully. He didn't like to risk another collapse of the rock, and endanger Nasuada's life. The magic absorbed the energy of his body and he had to stop many times to rest and eat.

This time there was enough place for them to sit down together and share some food while resting. Nasuada was very tired and leaned against the rock closing her eyes, as she chewed at the small chunk of bread and cheese she was holding.

'I wonder, have they discovered my escape?' she asked, feeling her heart beating faster. The fact that she might be caught again, after all these risks she had endured, filled her core with fear.

'No, not yet' Murtagh answered.

'How do you know?' She had better die than to be shackled again.

'They have not sound the alarm yet.' The Rider stood once again to proceed. 'Thorn would have told me.' He knew he should hurry, there was not much time left, and many things to do. 'It is still the dead of the night on the surface.'

Nasuada stood too watching at him widening the crevice slowly but steadily, using his magic. She was feeling cold and now she regretted the fact that she had abandoned Murtag's cloak inside the Hall of the Soothsayer. She could use it now, wrap her body to warm her frozen limbs. She tried not to think that in fact she was buried alive inside the earth, and focused on her upcoming freedom, once they would succeed. If they would succeed…

Using a final spell that caused one small part of the rock to collapse, Murtagh finished. He stepped back watching the result of his work. The opening was wide enough for them to pass through. He breathed deeply. If his calculations had been correct, passing to the other side they should find themselves to the base of the escarpment. He held Nasuada's hand and led her through the passage he had created.

On the other side, a broad, open space, like a long, wide cave was spreading in all directions. Small rocks and dirt covered the ground, and as much as they tried, they could not manage to see the cave's roof. Observing around, Murtagh spotted within a distance a tunnel, running from one side to the other. Using his senses again, he felt fresher air coming in, from the right direction of the tunnel, and it was this direction they followed. They stepped carefully, trying to avoid the sharp stones, but as they proceeded, the ground appeared to be clearer and more passable.

Here they walked with a brisk pass, for about half an hour, or so and then the Rider stopped. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, his breath coming with difficulty inside his lugs. Nasuada watched him lean on the wall of the tunnel holding himself with his left hand, his right clenched on his stomach.

'Murtagh!' She held his arm looking at his face with concern. A mask of pain disfigured his features. 'What is it, Rider?'

He gritted his teeth, his lips one straight line, his eyes tightly pressed. Nasuada watched him be suffocated, being unable to breathe; he withdrew a few meters back, dragging her with him. He leaned back against the wall, as he tried to catch his breath.

'We are under the outer walls of the city' he said with a hoarse voice. 'This is as far as I can go.' He breathed hard a few more deep breaths; his pain seemed to abate a little. 'You will have to proceed on your own.'

She looked at him with wide, open eyes. His face seemed like a mask of pain.

'But, why?'

'It is my oaths. I cannot exit the city' Murtagh hissed.

'No! You cannot give up, you must go on.' Nasuada felt disappointed. They had come so far together, and now …

'I'm sorry, I can't. We are under the outer walls. Without _his_ permission I cannot exit.' He straightened his body as his breath returned to normal, gloom shaded his eyes. He looked at her with a gaze full of pain, but he said nothing.

'This cannot be. We have come this far, we must go along together' Nasuada could not believe that he was abandoning.

'I am sorry. From now on, you have to go alone.'

The somber expression on his face made Nasuada stop insisting. The Rider sighed, indicating the direction.

'The exit of the tunnel must be near. I sense fresh air and the night's moisture.' He looked at her one, last time, trying to memorise all the details of her face. This intimacy they have shared the last few hours … They would never be so close to each other again. 'The Varden must be near. You will meet with your people.'

Nasuada decided that it was meaningless to try again. She bowed her head, accepting the facts.

'What will you do?'

Murtagh swallowed hard.

'I have to go back.'

She raised her head, grabbing his arm.

'Back! That is impossible!' She was left awestruck. He could not climb back there again. Could he?

The Rider half smiled bitterly.

'I have to do it. For Thorn.'

'What the King will do to you?' she came even closer, touching his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Murtagh covered her hand with his own. Tendrils of silver light escaped his palm, enlightening his eyes with a strange luminance.

'_He_ cannot kill me. He needs me alive for the final battle.'

Concern filled her being, and she tried for the last time.

'Come with me, with us. You will face _him_ along with your brother.'

'You know that I can't. Do not make it more difficult than it is, Nasuada.'

She withdrew her hand, trying to control her emotion.

'Then this is it, Rider. The next time we will meet, we will be opponents.'

The last sentence was spoken with a painful hue in her voice. His eyes looked at her with a matching feeling.

'Fare well, Nasuada, Leader of the Varden!'

'Fare well, Murtagh, Rider of Thorn!'

She turned and left, heading towards the direction he had indicated. And he stood there alone, watching her until a distant curve of the tunnel hide her form. She had left, without turning back to look at him. He turned on his heels to return.

_…back! …_

He started walking the way back, feeling the combination of many feelings stirring inside him. Disappointment, sorrow, loneliness. He felt that he had been left without a purpose. Why was he returning to the King's forced servitude? Now that Nasuada was gone, there was nothing left for him, except Thorn.

_… Thorn! …_

He had his Dragon to protect. Yes, that is why he had to go back. But …

Nasuada was gone. And he was alone. Nasuada was gone forever!

_… alone! …_

He felt his need of her growing inside him, tearing his heart to pieces. He was hopeless. And he was alone. Forever!

What if …

_… No! … it cannot be … it cannot be …_

Withdrawn into his morbid thoughts, he could not sense Thorn talking to his mind, until the mental shock of the Dragon, made him pay attention.

_Murtagh! _

Thorn seemed to be excited and the Rider could not understand why.

_Murtagh! I'm changing! My whole being is changing! _

This could not make sense. Since Nasuada was gone, and he had been left alone …

The Dragon felt his Rider's need for the two-legs-round-ears-dark-skin-female, and realised that in this strange change he was not alone.

_So you do, my Rider! _

Thorn was bubbling. Since Nasuada was gone, and he had to live alone forever …

_Murtagh! I feel I can fly above the walls of Urû'baen!_

He stopped and breathed hard, finally paying attention to his Dragon.

_Thorn!_

_I'm doing it, Murtagh! I'm flying above the walls! _

Thorn's joyous feeling reached from his mind to his heart and he turned around and looked back, the way she had left and …

_Murtagh! My chains are broken! _

He made a step to the way back. Then, a stride.

_Murtagh! I'm free!_

Murtagh ran. Not being able to believe it, he reached the previous spot of their separation. He was standing under the outer walls of Urû'baen once again.

Cautiously, he made one little step. Then, another.

He blinked. He was under the walls, yes … just another step … one more.

He breathed. Then, he made another step and breathed again, and …

_Murtagh! You are free!_

Murtagh ran! He ran as if a thousand demons were chasing him. Thorn's joyous humming was filling his mind and heart.

_Nasuada!_

He caught her up at a distance. He grabbed her hand and forced her to run along with him. And he laughed, and could not stop laughing as he ran, and ran, and ran …

And Thorn was humming inside his mind and he laughed, and laughed, and ran …

Until the girl he dragged behind him, protested. And he stopped running, but could not stop laughing.

_… free! …_

They started walking together side by side. The ground rock had changed now to a damp dirt, full of roots and life. The tunnel lowered and narrowed and he was unable to stand upright anymore; when they reached a place that the tunnel had been collapsed, Murtagh used his magic once again. This time the hole he opened to the thin ground led them outside, on the surface of the earth.

They stood facing each other and they breathed the clear, damp pre dawn air. They could see the city at a distance. The lights of the torches the guards used, fixed on the walls, had begun to lose their brightness.

'Wellcome, Murtagh, Rider of Thorn!'

'Thank you, Nasuada, Leader of the Varden!'

_Murtagh!_ Thorn's voice thundered inside his mind. _They know!_

He grabbed her hand again and ran towards a copse at a small distance.

'They have found out … Hurry! There is no much time.'

_Thorn! Meet us in the clearing!_

Before even reaching it, the Dragon was already there. He lifted Nasuada on his saddle and helped himself behind her, securing her in his arms.

'The Varden should be near.'

This time his voice was serious. His previous jovial had subsided. He didn't know what to expect from them, but he suspected a lot.

With a tremendous leap, Thorn abandoned the ground, and Nasuada leaned against his chest smiling. Her loose hair was flying around him, along with the wind.

'Oh yes, the Varden!' They could do very well without her, with her successor. 'But let us not hurry to fly to them yet.'

Murtagh smiled.

The Dragon flew higher and higher into the sky, directed towards the point of the horizon, where a bright line of red light had started to appear above the dark land of Galbatorix's realm. The sun was about to rise.

Nasuada gazed around her, excited over the unknown experience she was facing. From the altitude they flew, she was going to be the first one to see the sunrise, on the wings of a Dragon. Now, the luminous spot of the horizon became brighter and clearer. Golden clouds hid the sun behind a golden curtain.

And Nasuada laughed.

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_Thrysta deloi_ = Compress the earth

_Moi stenr_ = Stone, change!

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**A/N :** Dear Readers, thank you for reading. Now, you can do two things for me.

First : Forgive the tones of mistakes that I have missed, and

Second : If you have enjoyed this story, go and give me a review.


	2. Epilogue

**Disclaimer :** I do not own any hero of the Inheritance cycle.

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**A/N :** This story is dedicated to **Nell, ano, lalal, Kaali** and **kitteh875** for their reviews to my stories.

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**A/N :** I was tempted to add an epilogue, so, here it is.

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**Epilogue.**

Nasuada laughed.

Golden clouds hid the sun behind a golden curtain, as the luminous spot of the horizon became brighter and clearer. She leaned against Murtag's chest, and gazed around her excited. They were the first who could see the sunrise from this altitude, on the wings of a Dragon. The Rider secured her in his arms protectively, and touched his cheek on her braided, scented hair, breathing deeply their aroma.

It was almost a year since the day both of them had returned to the Varden, who were fast approaching Urû'baen. In the beginning the warriors had panicked by the appearance of the Dragon and his Rider, as they had expected an attack; but as soon as they had spotted Nasuada on Thorn's back, they had stayed still, waiting in alarm. Eragon and Saphira were there too. In fact, they were the first who met them in the air, Brisingr drawn in Eragon's hand, ready to strike.

'Brother, I return all I have stolen.'

He had unsheathed Zar'roc and had placed it on Nasuada's lap. Of course, later, none of the Varden had dared touch his blade. As soon as they had landed, Nasuada had returned it to him.

It took the Lady of the Varden less than half an hour to explain the situation. The battle was in front of them, they had to face the army, the magicians, the King himself. They needed any ally they could afford. And a Rider and his Dragon were the best ally to them. They had to accept them. And they did. Not willingly, not with pleasure, but they did. And after the battle had finished and they had won, none really cared about him and Thorn. A lot of them had been killed, and the survivors were too busy, trying to recover from the battle. They had to heal so many wounds, physical, mental, emotional.

Thorn stretched lazily his wings to catch more rays of the ascending sun. The Dragon watched Saphira flying at a distance, Eragon on her back. Murtagh looked better on the ground and spotted a team of eight fully armored warriors, heading towards Du Weldenvarden. There were two Elves, two Humans, two Urgals and two Dwarfs, Arya Dröttningu leading them. Murtagh knew that they were carrying the last Dragon egg, the green one they had found in Galbatorix's treasury, for the search of a new Rider.

_Isn't she beautiful?_ Thorn echoed inside his mind.

_Who, the Elf princess?_ Murtagh teased him.

_The sea-scales Saphira!_ Thorn was too innocent to understand the teasing and his Rider could feel his care about the female Dragon. During the last few months they had been closer to each other, Thorn courting her.

_Dragons do not court,_ Thorn commented. _They just mate! _

On the edge of his mind, the Rider could feel his brother's concern about Arya. Eragon was going to watch over them from above, as he had done many times before. Then, he had to return. Nasuada and the Varden needed both of them to be around; there were so many things yet to be done.

_She will be back!_ Thorn stated, meaning Arya.

His brother was going to feel alone for the next few months and Murtagh could very well understand his feelings. He had noticed the Elf princess and Eragon walking and talking together many times. Flying together on Saphira's back, leaving the city and heading towards the woods, wanting to be left alone.

_They have plenty of time!_ Thorn's easy demeanor affected his Rider.

Murtagh held Nasuada protectively and placed his palm, the one with the _gedwëy_ _ignasia_ on her round belly, feeling the new life moving inside. Nasuada pressed his palm tighter on a particular spot, allowing him to feel a movement full of high spirits within her womb. The previous month he had sensed the existence of a son in there, and Murtagh was fascinated of the idea of him becoming a father.

A baby in his arms, a child, a son! Someone who would be Morzan's and Ajihad's grandson. Every time this thought crossed his mind, he smiled. He smiled a half-forgotten, crooked smile, more than a grimace than a smile. Life has sometimes a very strange sense of humor. But then, this thought turned to a more optimistic view of this fact.

'May he have Morzan's power and Ajihad's wisdom, to use it properly.'

This is what he used to say to Nasuada.

_He will be strong and determined, as you two are! _Thorn thundered inside his mind; and the Rider had nothing to state to this.

He closed Nasuada in his arms, as his heart was spurting with the emotion, and his mind flooding by the most tender thoughts.

_… my dearest … my beloved … my precious wife … _

Suddenly, the golden curtain of the clouds withdrew, and the sun shone in all its splendor.

And Nasuada smiled.


End file.
